Assistant cheesemaker Amir Rosenblatt adds salt while an agitator stirs the curd at Beecher's Handmade Cheese. The company's Flagship Reserve took a blue ribbon in aged cheddars, and was named runner-up as best in show against 1,207 other entries in a recent American Cheese Society competition. less

Assistant cheesemaker Amir Rosenblatt adds salt while an agitator stirs the curd at Beecher's Handmade Cheese. The company's Flagship Reserve took a blue ribbon in aged cheddars, and was named runner-up as best ... more

Photo: KAREN DUCEY/P-I

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Head cheesemaker Brad Sinko, left, and assistant cheesemaker Blain Hages cut the cheese in a vat. Passers-by can take in the action through several large windows.

Head cheesemaker Brad Sinko, left, and assistant cheesemaker Blain Hages cut the cheese in a vat. Passers-by can take in the action through several large windows.

Photo: KAREN DUCEY/P-I

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In 4 years, Beecher's has grown from a little curd to a big-time prize winner

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It wasn't so long ago in cheese years -- about as long as it takes to age a great Parmesan -- that people told Kurt Beecher Dammeier he must be kidding, trying to make artisan cheese at Pike Place Market.

From its 2003 beginnings there were questions, from the obvious (Dammeier had no experience making cheese), to the practical (where to find high-quality local milk in an age of declining dairies), to the personal (was the entrepreneur too corporate for the independent likes of the Market?).

Four years later, Beecher's Handmade Cheese is a Pike Place anchor and a tourist attraction in its own right. And Dammeier is hearing things like this:

"The flavor was well-rounded and long-lasting with hints of caramel, and a little sweet milk note, too."

"Great moisture, with a creaminess that makes the mouth-feel very nice."

These comments came from some of the most high-powered names in the gourmet field, from academics and food scientists to merchandisers and affineurs, judges at the recent 2007 competition of the American Cheese Society.

This year's event was the largest U.S. cheese competition in history. And Beecher's won big.

The company's Flagship Reserve took a blue ribbon in aged cheddars, and -- most strikingly -- was named runner-up as best in show against 1,207 other entries. Judges selected Beecher's over far more established gourmet names such as California's Marin French Cheese Co. and Cowgirl Creamery, not to mention big-time operations such as Tillamook in Oregon and Cabot in Vermont.

"I had goose bumps for three days," said Brad Sinko, head cheesemaker.

Beecher's can be found in the gold-standard cheese shops: both Murray's and Artisanal in New York City. Or head to Pike Place to see what happens when the unusual mix of food-loving tastes, slow food ideals and sharp business sense combine.

Hitting the spot

Cheese is a living organism, and Beecher's has evolved since its 2003 beginnings. Its Flagship brand -- not a typical cheddar, but one also made with cultures used for Gruyere -- still goes down easy, but it is aged longer and carries more character than blander early versions. It hits the exact and sizable sweet spot on the public palate that Dammeier initially envisioned, a semihard cheese that would be "ubiquitously likable, but clearly premium."

The newer Flagship Reserve, produced only in limited quantities, has earned its way onto fine local cheese plates. It takes the slot reserved for those who don't crave stink or squish or quirky flavors, but still can revel in the flavors and textures of a good, rich, tangy bite, enjoying the sweetness and the nutty overtones.

Dammeier, owner of the glossy Pasta & Co. chain (which he purchased from the founders in 2000) and an investor in Pyramid Breweries, signed the lease for the Pike Place store with little more cheese sense than his businesses experience, the memories of local cheeses from his childhood and a bug for "pure food." In an area known for natural bounty and gourmand consumers, he saw a market for an old-fashioned style of cheese, one made without preservatives or artificial ingredients, using hormone-free, antibiotic-free milk from local cows.

Enter Sinko, a microbiologist with cheddaring experience, who had developed cheeses at his family's Bandon Creamery in Oregon.

And enter complete renovations to the storefront that once housed Molbak's plant store. Beecher's is a production facility, a sales floor, a classroom and a show all in one, featuring a glassed-in cheesemaking area for watching the milk swish in 1,000-gallon, stainless-steel vats and get transformed into curds and whey and beyond.

The importance of time

Dammeier's other ventures gave him a luxury rarely found in the artisan world: time. He could afford the startup costs of the market lease, the milk ingredients, the staff and the room to age and store his products, all before his own brand could be sold to the public.

He also had time to experiment.

"The first vat we threw away," Dammeier said.

"The second vat was really good."

Over time, Sinko has tinkered with the formula and the enzymes, increased the Flagship aging to an average of 18 months (though the label only takes credit for 12), and set off on a quest for more consistent batches of what Sinko and Dammeier identify as the "flagship taste."

Milk, of course, is a main focus. The cheesemaking area is too small for a milk separator, Sinko joked, so rather than using one to adjust butter fat and protein, instead "I went and standardized the herd."

Milk from the Holstein cows in the herds Beecher's first used had a sweeter flavor, said Dammeier, but was lower in fat. Weighting the herd toward higher-fat Jersey milk gave the cheese an earthier taste -- but took away too much sweetness and overly softened the texture. Now there's a balance between the breeds. As the next step, Dammeier is searching for his own farm on the Eastside, freeing him from the hamstrings of the commodity milk system and giving him complete control over the product.

Beecher's makes several types of cheese, but the Flagship brand makes up more than half its production. The reserve, made from drier curds with a higher salt content, has the artisan look, with its barrel-round shape and moldy exterior. Unlike the regular version, which is Cryovac-ed in 40-pound blocks, the reserve is wrapped in cloth, aged in the open air on racks, rubbed in butter and turned daily. It takes up extra space and manpower and yields a smaller return -- each 18-pound "truckle" shape loses about 12 percent of its weight as it ages and dries.

The cheese state?

Beecher's now is available in several states, becoming a sizable operation by Washington standards but a small one in the national picture. Dammeier produces around 200,000 pounds per year of the regular Flagship (and less than 15,000 pounds of the Reserve), though he hopes to expand that this year. He eventually would like to expand into more kinds of cheese, maybe experimenting with washed rinds.

The real expansion, though, is in his vision. The cheese case at Beecher's is thoroughly stocked with great-tasting competitors from Washington, and Dammeier wants to leverage the reach of them all. Cheese, to him, is in the same loaded-with-potential spot wine was in the Northwest 20 years ago. He sees no reason that we can't become known for our cheddars and chevres as much as our chardonnays and merlots.

The mass is building. Twenty-eight cheesemakers are licensed with Washington state, up from nine in 2000, according to the state Department of Agriculture. And Beecher's big contest win could do a lot to promote the state's cheese on its own.

The ACS triumph is not a perfect, empirical mark of quality, of course. Not all cheesemakers are ACS members (a prerequisite to enter the competition), and cheeses that have been on the market fewer than 12 months are ineligible to compete. But the judges' credentials are pristine, and the competition remains stiff.

Cheeses don't compete against each other within categories, said judging chair David Grotenstein, but are scored on their own merits and shortcomings, with no prizes awarded if cheeses don't meet the minimum scores. The Flagship Reserve earned a 96 for the blue ribbon. Blue-ribbon winners in all the categories then went on to compete for best in show.

That sort of recognition can increase awareness of the cheese and build prestige with the public and the industry alike, said Dick Groves, editor of the Wisconsin-based Cheese Reporter, an industry newspaper. More than that, he said, "It's definitely indicative of producing a pretty high-quality product."